


Our blood is boiling

by twinks



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Louis, Famous Harry, Hate Sex, Is that a thing, Kissing Kink, M/M, Non-Famous Louis, Seduction, Slightly more ridiculous and humorous than I hoped, Top Harry, Which of course turns into fluff because I am weak and cannot write otherwise, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 20:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3425378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinks/pseuds/twinks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can’t believe you’re making me this angry when it’s almost midnight and I’m not even <i>drunk</i>. You know what? I could take you down right here, right now—”</p><p>“You’re red.” Harry interrupts, his lips curving up into a smug grin. “Am I making you red?”</p><p>Louis purses his lips and absentmindedly brings a hand up to feel his cheek. It’s definitely warm. <i>God</i>, how can he even come back from this? </p><p>[Louis meets indie singer Harry Styles, otherwise known as the bane of his existence, at a pub.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our blood is boiling

**Author's Note:**

> It’s a snow day so this happened. ¬‿¬

“ _Ayo_ , Lou, wanna see me chug this pint?”

Louis lets himself slump against the bar, resting his head near his water. He could think of possibly a thousand other things he’d like to see before Niall chugging a pint, especially when there are multiple _Breaking Bad_ reruns on. He feels the empty bowl of peanuts dig into his forehead.

He doesn’t know exactly _why_ he agreed to come with Niall to a pub. A very crowded, loud, _dirty_ pub at that. All he knows is that he agreed to get out more, make new friends, possibly meet a nice guy that will put up with his obsession with comic books and Norman Reedus. It’s a start, he thinks, allowing himself to withdraw all logical thinking and come to a _pub_ with Niall, who could drink until he sees black, _especially_ since he drove him here, leaving him to drink water.

So, essentially, he’s in hell.

There are many things inside the shitty excuse for a pub that make him think this. For example, the music they’re playing is for the teenagers who like to wear old clothes from decades ago and think they’re the second coming of Christ. It has soft guitars and fucking _banjos_ and he’s not even sure why this kind of music is taking over, especially whenever they could listen to The Script or something. Second, it’s fucking crowded and loud and maybe he’s getting too old for pub visits because he feels like he’s about to turn into the Hulk, and his first victim would be Niall for dragging him along.

“Lou, you alright?” Niall slurs, clasping him on the back roughly. Louis looks up to see Niall, pink faced and giggly, swishing his hips around while his beer sloshes around in his cup wildly before dripping to the floor. “Why aren’t you having fun?”

“Well to start, I can’t even _drink_.” Louis yells over the music that’s progressively getting louder, swinging his legs from the tall barstool. “The music’s shit. Breaking Bad’s on and I can’t even watch it.”

Niall puts down his almost empty glass, pointing his finger out. “Listen here, _grumpy_ , I took you here because you’re my _friend_ and I miss you when you work, and I don’t want to see you all— is that Harry Styles?”

Louis feels his blood turn into ice. He’s almost too scared to follow Niall’s eyes. He feels a bit like he’s frozen into a statue, because when he looks down at his shoes, his arms are stuck in a position that looks like he’s been caught doing the robot. “Are you taking the piss, Niall?”

Niall squints, then, leaning in forward. It looks far too obvious, so Louis finally unfreezes from his robotic stance and pulls him back, bewildered. “Either I’m _super_ wasted, yeah? Or that guy is just a very, very good impersonator.”

Humming happily, Louis leans back so he’s pressed against the bar, letting out an amused laugh. “ _Christ_ , for a moment I thought you were serious, fucking _hate_ that guy. He’s so annoying, isn’t he? With his stupid songs and bloody _fedoras_. I mean, who the fuck wears fedoras? The only people I’ve seen wear one are wearing them ironically.”

Niall laughs, leaning over Louis to grab his beer. “ _Ithinkit’shimthen_ ,” he mumbles, letting his head fall back as he gulps down the last drops of his beer.

“ _What_?”

He’s never, ever in his life known someone who mumbles this badly. Niall slides the empty glass over to the bartender and plays with his sleeves, a nervous grin on his face.

“Niall, what the hell’s wrong with you?”

“It’s, um. It’s Harry Styles. The, you know. _Real one_. He’s wearing a fedora.” Niall looks incredibly nervous, biting at his lips, fumbling around with his jumper. He should be, too, because Louis is about to get into his first ever fight. He’s had stupid fights as a kid, reckless soft punches thrown, but it’s about to go _down_.

Harry Styles is the bane of Louis’ existence. His music is stupid and cliche and annoying, his face looks _frog-like_. He talks like he knows he’s hot shit, all slow and deep and husky. Louis wants to punch him in the throat.

“Please don’t get us banned from this pub, Lou, _Barbara_ comes here sometimes—”

“Have you quite finished?” Louis interrupts, spinning around on his bar stool to see Harry Styles in a booth by himself. He’s looking down at his phone, the brightness lighting up his face. “Look at him,” He laughs, tapping his fingers on the bar. “He genuinely looks like a frog, Niall.”

Niall makes a noise. “Hey, don’t be mean, Lou, he can’t help it that he looks like an amphibian.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Niall, you insult me almost every day, don’t go all soft on me now.” He’s never felt this way before, his blood is pumping and he’s pretty sure he’s got some adrenaline rush going. Months and months of enduring Harry Styles’ music on his favorite _pop_ radio station, when everyone damn well knows Harry’s music isn’t pop, has built up anger in his system that can only be released in one way. Fighting him.

“But, look, he’s smiling at his phone and — and he’s, like, a positive person who sings about loving one another.” Niall whines, his fingers digging into Louis’ shoulder. “Please don’t cause a giant scene, Lou — oh _fuck_ , he’s looking.”

Louis looks from Niall’s frantic blue eyes to Harry’s booth and fuck, _fuck_ , he’s definitely looking. He sits up straight and squints, because maybe, just maybe, Harry’s a little buzzed and he might somehow find him intimidating. “Stay calm, Niall,” he says without moving his lips, staring straight into Harry’s wide, confused eyes. This is definitely an act of showing dominance, which means Harry _has_ to be slightly intimidated, right?

Harry looks from side to side slowly, then finally realizes that Louis is indeed staring at him angrily. He looks offended, his lips jutting out into a pout, which makes him look slightly even more frogier. “Me?” He mouths, putting one hand on his chest. He’s got multiple rings on multiple fingers, and Louis isn’t even sure why but it makes him angry, because he’s got an unfair advantage if they do end up fighting.

Louis simply nods slowly, trying to make his facial features harden.

“You look like an angry puppy… should I leave?” Niall whispers.

“Please don’t leave me, if he’s bigger than me I’m gonna need back up.”

Louis watches as Harry stands up uneasily, making his way over to the bar. His heart is racing, so much so that Louis is pretty sure that this is the way that he’s going to die, a heart attack before getting the chance to fight his mortal enemy. He’s never been one for confrontation, so when he sees how Harry’s face looks so… calm, probably one hundred times more intimidating as his, he tries his best not to back down.

“ _Ah_ ,” Harry hums when he’s a few steps before the two of them. “Should I introduce myself? You seem like you need to have a chat with me?”

Louis clears his throat. “I know who you are.” He slides off of the barstool as manly as possible, and once he’s standing before Harry, a quiet whimper escapes his mouth. He’s definitely smaller than him, even has to _look up_ at him. He’s still not backing down though. Fuck this guy. He decides quickly to get back up on the stool so he has an excuse to look up at him. He hopes he looks intimidating, even when his feet don’t touch the floor and he’s wearing such a bright colored jumper. Of all the days to wear a flamboyant jumper to a pub, it’s the night he’s finally going to be able to kick Harry Styles’ ass. Hopefully.

Harry nods expectantly, eyebrows raising. “Then who am I?”

“Your music is annoying. It would be slightly alright and bearable if it didn’t play almost every time I switched the station. One time your interview came on when I needed to see the weather on the news, and you talked so _bloody slow_ that I was late for work because I desperately needed to see the forecast. Your fans are mostly teenagers who wear old clothes and think they’re better than everyone else, my sister included. You are everywhere and I don’t like it.”

“Have you quite finished?”

Louis hops down from his seat again, because _no_. That’s _his_ line. _His_. “Listen here, fedora boy. That’s my signature line, even Niall here can vouch for me,”

Niall’s eyes widen at the attention. “Yeah, he, um, that’s his line.”

“I can’t believe you’re making me this angry when it’s almost midnight and I’m not even _drunk_. You know what? I could take you down right here, right now—”

“You’re red.” Harry interrupts, his lips curving up into a smug grin. “Am I making you red?”

Louis purses his lips and absentmindedly brings a hand up to feel his cheek. It’s definitely warm. _God_ , how can he even come back from this?

“You know what?” Niall slurs, a new full pint glass in his hands. “Let’s be friends. Louis here has some of your songs on his phone, I’ve seen it with me own eyes.”

If looks could kill, Niall would be dead right now. “He’s _drunk_ , he doesn’t know what he’s going on about.” He feels his face heat up even more, because how the fuck did Niall even see his phone’s music library? Christ, it’s only three songs and it’s not like he’s ever listened to them more than once. _Fuck_ , he was so sure he was going to fight him and now he feels like a deflated balloon.

“Let me see your phone, then.” Harry leans forward and Louis _does not_ look into his shirt. But if he did, it’s not really his fault because it’s unbuttoned to the point where he could already see inside if he wanted to. There’s a butterfly there, big and dark on his skin, there’s some birds, and Louis wouldn’t really be surprised if it turned out he had a giant ladybug on his arsecheek. “Hello?”

Louis snaps out of it and clears his throat. “I don’t have my phone.”

Before he can do anything, Niall sticks his hand into Louis’ pocket and takes out his phone, throwing it at Harry. Harry catches it clumsily, his hands fumbling before finally setting it in his large, _large_ hands. He’s truly, truly fucked.

“Are you Harry Styles?” A boy with a large quiff asks, a big grin on his face.

“This isn’t a good time, laddy.” Niall yells, mumbling something about the Irish flag under his breath. “His password is 4794.”

Louis can only watch in disappointment as his life is about to go downhill. Harry’s scrolling through _God knows what_ and he’s about to look like the dumbest person in the entire world. Maybe he can somehow turn this around and tell him that it’s been a bad day and he just wanted to fight someone to make it better.

Harry’s illuminated face looks way too happy. “Hmm,” He turns his phone towards the two of them with a shit eating grin, _Harry Styles_ shown in Louis’ iTunes library. “Why’d you go and yell at me when you have my songs in your phone?”

“You’re annoying.” Louis settles for saying, which doesn’t really help his argument much. “Just because _some_ of your songs are catchy doesn’t mean I don’t want to kick your arse. I hate your bloody fedora and I hate the way you talk all slowly and seductive.”

“You think my voice is seductive?”

Louis wants to throw himself into traffic, honestly. He came into this fight ready to spit some hilarious insults, but he didn’t really see this coming. “I never—”

“Yes you did.” Niall and Harry argue in unison.

He feels absolutely betrayed by his best friend. First he hands over his phone and now he’s siding with this _hipster_ trash. “Well, I.” He huffs, crossing his arms. He’s truly been defeated by a slow talking frog. “I need a shot of whiskey or something.”

“Do you want me to buy you a drink?” Harry asks, taking a step closer. His eyes are lit up amusedly, giant hands still closed around Louis’ phone. “Actually, is this what that whole thing was about? Some well thought out plan to get me to buy you a drink?”

“No, he genuinely wants to wring your neck out.” Niall helps out for the first time, taking a swig of beer. “I’ve just been keeping the secret that he sometimes listens to you, it’s great finally getting that off my chest.”

“How long have you _known_?” Louis asks, eyes widening. He wishes that this all didn’t have to happen right now, and that he could have successfully gotten into a real fight with this fedora wearing cunt.

Niall makes a face, setting his pint glass down. “One time you called me accidentally when you were singing his Happily song, it was muffled so I assumed you butt dialed me.”

Louis lets out a breath, snatching his phone from Harry’s hand with an angry groan. “Can’t believe this.” He gets back on the tall barstool, swinging his legs in frustration. “I hate the both of you.”

“Hey, I thought we were on the verge of becoming friendly towards one another?” Harry takes the seat next to Louis, his feet firmly planted on the floor. Fucking giant. “What about the drink I asked about earlier?”

Louis is overwhelmed. Five minutes ago, he was ready to kick Harry’s arse. Now, though, he’s kind of turned on for some terrible reason and he’s about ready to give in. _No_. No. What the fuck? No. He’s not going to give in. “Why do you want to buy me a drink when I just insulted you?”

Harry shrugs. “You’re cute.”

“Well, I think this is my cue to get the fuck out of here,” Niall announces. “I’ll leave you two at it. Please don’t leave with him, I have no way to get home.”

Niall starts to walk off, but Harry puts a large hand on his elbow. “You know, here’s some money for a cab.” He digs around in his pocket, then pulls out a few coins and bills. “I don’t think he’s going to be available to take you home.”

As much as Louis doesn’t want to admit it, he’s almost one thousand percent sure his cock just twitched in his pants. He watches in awe as Niall takes the money with wriggling eyebrows, and then turns to Harry, who’s smirking, bright eyes staring straight into Louis’.

“Do you still hate me?”

Louis gulps. “Yes.”

Harry laughs to himself, tapping his fingers against his thigh. “I have a question, just, I need you to answer very honestly. You alright with that?”

Inhaling, Louis nods slowly. He can’t believe how _weak_ he is, how he’s just _alright_ with Harry being incredibly seductive and _fucking fit_.

“Do you want to go home with me?”

 _Fuck_. Fuck. It feels hot, like he’s about to drown in his own sweat. There’s a good chance it’s because he’s wearing a jumper and it’s slightly warm in the pub, but Louis doesn’t like to lie to himself. It’s because Harry’s making him need to touch himself, get a little bit of relief, so he won’t explode. “I.”

Harry looks around, eyes drifting all around them. He reaches out and touches Louis’ knee, slowly drifting his fingers up until his fingertips are pressing into the sensitive skin of his upper thigh. “Do you?”

Louis can’t speak, couldn’t get a word out even if he wanted to. His words are stuck in his throat, and he’s pretty sure he looks like a deer in headlights. He can’t believe the amount of confidence he had earlier somehow diminished into absolutely nothing. “Just… _fuck me_ , Harry Styles.”

“That’s what you want?” Harry asks, somehow looking innocent with his gigantic green eyes. There’s also the fact that he’s asking about sex, which is on the opposite side of the spectrum of innocent. “Are you sure?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Louis breathes out, kicking the legs of his chair. “Yeah, that’s what I want. Are you happy now?” Because of this moment, Louis’ questioning whether or not he ever _wanted_ to fight him, maybe the entire hatred thing was just his brain trying to keep from having sexual dreams about him. His entire Harry hating life is a lie.

“Let’s go, then,” Harry gets off of the chair with a smug smirk, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “My house is just a few blocks away, I walked here.”

“In the fucking _snow_? It’s bloody freezing outside, you complete maniac.” Louis makes sweater paws with his jumper, looking towards the exit door with wide eyes. “I’ve only got this jumper on, do you reckon I’ll freeze my arse off before we can even get to the good stuff?”

Harry nods the hair out of his face. “Are you usually this dramatic?”

Louis gapes. “It’s the middle of the winter, Harry, I’m not at all being dramatic. I care for my limbs and don’t wish to get frostbite, no matter how eager I am to go to your house and have sex.”

“So, the answer to that question was yes, you’re definitely always dramatic.” Harry settles, and before Louis can protest he’s being slung over Harry’s shoulder, having a perfect view to the back of Harry’s legs and arse, _well_ , lack thereof. “Bye, Niall, don’t forget to take the cab!” he hears Harry yell, his face pressed into Harry’s back.

The cold air hits Louis’ legs as soon as Harry opens the door, and he lets out a high pitched scream. He starts to hit the curve of Harry’s back repeatedly, yelling nonsense about how frostbite is already forming on his ankles, which, he doesn’t really know is possible.

“I’m not putting you down, there’s no use of hitting me. If you’re going to be dramatic, then I’m going to be a dramatic fireman.” Harry laughs, continuing to walk slowly and steadily. Louis gives up, hanging limply from Harry’s body. The ground rises and falls in tune with Harry’s steps, and it’s kind of fascinating how the snow looks from this angle.

“The snow looks cool from here. All sparkly from the streetlamps.” Louis comments, letting his arm dangle loose. He drags his fingertips across the cold sheet of snow, sniffling. “When you see me, my nose is going to be _red_. Like those Kleenex commercials.”

Harry bursts out into laughter, the grip on his legs loosening. “Those people look so funny, they make me laugh. It’s the way they move that gets m— _fuck_ —” There’s the sound of Harry struggling and Louis can’t even react before he’s being dropped face first into the snow, too shocked to let out a scream. “Oh my _God_ , are you alright?”

Louis spits out the snow, sitting up quickly and gasping at how shockingly cold it is on his face. “Harry, you _idiot_ ,”

“Oh no,” Harry drops to his knees, putting both of his hands on Louis’ face. “Shit, did that hurt?”

Louis can only blink, staring straight ahead at Harry with an open mouth. He’s completely fucking beautiful, is all he can think, even when he hated him less than an hour ago and he just fucking _dropped_ him. “You’re, like. You’re kind of gorgeous. I mean, it’s not like it’s affecting me at all, how, like, _pretty_ you are—”

Harry closes the small gap between them quickly, his plump lips pressing against Louis’ with a good amount of force. Louis is taken aback, eyes wide and crossed from trying to look at Harry’s face this close. “Mph,” Harry grunts and pulls away, forehead wrinkled. “Are you going to kiss back, then?”

 

“You can’t just — give me a bit of a warning next time, yeah?”

“This is the warning.” Harry says slowly, then connects their lips again. Louis closes his eyes this time, opening his mouth slightly to let Harry’s tongue in. The feeling of their lips and tongues and teeth clashing together makes Louis groan, his freezing cold hand dropping down to his hard cock, trying to relieve himself.

“Harry,” Louis says into Harry’s lips, pushing him away with his numb hands. Harry pulls away fully, eyebrow raised. “We’re making out in the snow and making out gets me really, _really_ turned on and I don’t want to come in my pants in the freezing cold. Also the snow is melting on my arse and it’s wet.”

Harry laughs, leaning forward so that his mouth is pressed to Louis’ neck. “C’mon, then,” He gets up off of his knees with a grunt, holding one of his hands out. Louis takes it, pulling himself off the snow. “Let’s get into a warm bed.”

Without thinking, Louis reaches out and grabs Harry’s hand, pulling him along quickly. He regrets it as soon as he does it, holding his hand, but _just_ before he’s about to pull away, Harry squeezes his hand, pulling Louis’ body closer to him.

It’s an odd feeling, holding hands with someone he was thinking about beating the shit out of. The cold whips against Louis’ face, making his teeth chatter and goosebumps erupt from every part of his skin that’s visible. “Are we almost there?”

“Just walk until that pole and turn right, it’s the first house you’ll see.” Harry instructs, voice wavering because of the cold. “Do you want to, like, get on with it as soon as we get in or do you want a mug of hot chocolate? I bought loads of marshmallows yesterday in case the snow got really bad, in case of an emergency where we couldn’t leave our houses—”

“I’d love if we just got on with it. I’m still not fully… fond of you.” Louis sniffles again, speeding up his walking. The pole’s so close, Harry’s house is so close, he’s so ready to get into a warm house and just _bang_. He’s not sure if people still use the term ‘bang’, but oh fucking well.

Harry’s boots crunch against the snow. “What could I do to make you fond of me?”

Louis almost forgets that he’s holding hands with him, seeing as it’s fucking _freezing_ and his hands are slightly numb, but when he looks over and sees Harry’s gigantic hand engulfing his own, it makes his stomach twist. He hates himself for letting it get to him. This is _Harry Styles_ , the guy who’s made listening to the radio a living hell for _months_. He shakes his head, wriggling his hand free. He pretends not to notice Harry’s shoulders slump and a small pout form. “If you kiss me during sex, I’d definitely become fond of you. Dunno why I like it, I just do.”

Harry turns the corner, digging in his pocket for his keys. “That’s it? That’s the way to steal Louis’ heart?” They arrive at the front of Harry’s house, which is brightly lit by the porchlight. “What’s your, um, last name? By the way?”

“Tomlinson.” Louis answers. Harry’s jiggling his key in the lock, teeth chattering. “What’s yours?”

Harry turns back once he opens his door, warm air blowing out. “Very funny.”

Louis steps into the warm house, letting out a happy hum. The house looks very cozy, the living room having a big, fluffy beige couch in front of the TV. The kitchen’s a little messy, mugs scattered around the sink.

“Sorry about the mess,” Harry apologizes, shrugging off his jacket and setting it on the arm of his couch. “It’s cold and I love hot chocolate.” He takes his fedora off, shaking his hair out. Louis pretends he doesn’t love that.

Crossing his arms, Louis rocks back and forth on his heels. He doesn’t know how to initiate sex with Harry, because if he’s being honest, Harry’s so big and intimidating even when he looks like a giant, cuddly stuffed animal. (A frog, of course.) “So, um. The weather?”

Louis’ knocked backwards by Harry, his back against the edge of the couch. The couch’s arm is low, making his back arch in a weird angle, but he feels Harry’s large hand on the small of his back, straightening him up. “Here or my bed?”

“Bed.” Louis squeaks out, chest heaving in anticipation. Harry’s so close to his face that he can see each individual speck in his green eyes, faint freckles on his cheeks.

Harry brings both of his hands to lie gently on Louis’ hips, then lifts him up. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

Louis wraps his legs around his waist. His heart is beating so fast, he can feel his heartbeat everywhere. He puts his arms around Harry’s neck, leaving only a little amount of space between the two of them. “Are you going to fuck me any time soon, Harry Styles?”

“If you’re patient, Louis Tomlinson.”

 _That_ shuts Louis up. He swallows a whimper threatening to escape his mouth, rocking his hips gently, trying to get _some_ kind of relief. He doesn’t know what Harry’s playing at, just holding him up like this, but he’s going to explode if he doesn’t get _touched_ sometime soon.

It’s as if an entire lifetime has passed by when Harry finally starts walking towards his hallway, and Louis wants to moan at how _ready_ he is. Thankfully the hallway is relatively short, no weird twists and turns to make him wait any longer. Harry’s bedroom is warm, the bed unmade and messy.

Harry finally sets Louis down on his bed, crawling in right after so he can hover above, necklace dangling above Louis’ lips. “I don’t know why I’m acting like this, carrying you places, making you wait for it. I’m just trying to impress you.”

Louis laughs out loud, pulling on Harry’s necklace so their lips are inches away. “Harry Styles trying to impress _me_. How odd.” Without saying another word, Louis yanks on his necklace and hums happily when Harry’s lips press onto his own again, tilting and angling his head just right so Harry has an easy access to lick into his mouth. Harry starts to move his hips around, so Louis spreads his legs and lets Harry’s body in between his. It’s like electricity when Harry’s hips press into his, his cock finally receiving the small amount of relief he’s been needing for _forever_ it feels like.

“Off,” Harry breathes, spreading his hands out underneath Louis’ jumper. Louis shivers, biting his lips at the way Harry’s warm hands feel against his skin. Louis moans impatiently and sits up slightly so he can take his jumper all the way off. He throws it beside them with a lazy flick of his wrist. “God, you’re so _gorgeous_ , you know that, Louis?”

Louis’ thankful that the room is dimly lit, because he doesn’t want to _blush_. This is still Harry Styles, still an annoying hipster who produces terribly cliche hipster songs that teenagers can listen to and think they’re unique. Harry Styles, who is currently between his legs, giving him goosebumps. Louis shudders and pulls Harry closer to him, tugging at the ends of his flannel. “‘S already halfway unbuttoned, take it off, Styles.”

Harry stands up on his knees with a wickedly _hot_ smirk, looking him straight in the eyes while he unbuttons the rest of his shirt, shrugging the loose material off easily. “Happy now, Tomlinson?”

“Yeah,” Louis admits, marveling at his tattoos. The tattoos are so dark and it’s such a beautiful contrast to Harry’s milky skin, it makes Louis’ mouth water. He’s never been a tattoo person, really, he doesn’t really think they’d look good on him, but seeing how cool they look on Harry make him want to ink his skin until there’s no room left. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I _know_ ,” Harry agrees, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants quickly. He tugs his tight jeans down to his knees, leaving Louis to look at the _giant_ bulge in his briefs. “You tried to fight me, like _honest to God_ fight me. I looked up from my phone and your eyes were just, like, _set_ on me, ready to kill, even.”

Louis lolls his head to the side, covering his face. “I took theater, I’m sorry I’m so dramatic.” He feels his face burn up all over again, and Louis knows that if Harry removes his hands he’s going to look like a cherry. A human cherry.

It’s quiet in the room, so quiet that Louis feels a bit like peeking from his fingers to see what’s up, but then Harry’s hands slowly cover Louis’, and he moves them away from his face gently. “You’re great. Honestly. Even if you tried to kill me with your gaze.”

“How do you know I’m great, though? I’ve insulted you so many times tonight.”

Harry shrugs. “You held my hand, you kissed me. Obviously you’re not _that_ repulsed by me.”

“Fuck. I thought I was being hardcore tonight, now you’ve gone and pointed out all the times I’ve been soft.”

“Well you’re definitely not soft right now,” Harry says, grazing his fingertips lightly over the bulge in Louis’ jeans. “Should I take them off, now?”

Louis whines. “Please.”

Harry tugs on Louis’ already unbuttoned pants, licking his lips in concentration as they slowly slide down, revealing the soft, smooth skin of his thighs. “I never knew I had a thing for thighs.”

“Can you just— c’mon? Yeah?” Louis’ beginning to grow even more impatient, the contact so close to his hard cock is driving him absolutely insane. He’s about to beg for it, which he never does, and begging for _Harry Styles_ would just make him feel like a weak, weak person for the rest of his life. He keeps forgetting he’s supposed to hate this guy, but it’s kind of hard when he’s in control of the amount of pleasure he’s about to receive.

That seems to flick a switch on, because Harry’s expression becomes much more concentrated and he’s pulling Louis’ jeans off of his legs at a much more faster pace than before. “Do you want me to blow you?” Harry asks, twisting his body in all sorts of weird angles in order to kick his jeans off.

“As much as I’d love that, I just want — just want you to fuck me. Blowing me is too much, like, — I don’t want.” He pauses to curse at himself, not knowing how to word his thoughts. “If this… _us_ ever happens, I think blowing me comes later, you know? Sorry, _fuck_ this sounds stupid because we’re about to _fuck_ for God’s sake—”

“I somehow understand,” Harry cuts him off, pulling down his briefs to show a hard cock, curving up towards his stomach. “It’s much more intimate, I think is what you’re trying to say.”

Louis doesn’t know how he’s supposed to be normal sounding when Harry’s just pulled out his beautiful, beautiful cock. All he can do is stare at it wide eyed, his thoughts racing about how he’s about to get fucked so _good_.

Leaning over Louis, Harry pulls his bedside drawer open and fumbles around, taking a moment before finding what he was looking for. He sets down a condom and a small tub of lube beside them on the sheets, humming an excited tune. “So, you’re sure about this? Because I know this is a bit fast and you’ve gone from hating me and ready to kill me in public to underneath me in my bed.”

“Just _fuck me_ , Harry Styles.” Louis repeats, pulling his tight briefs down and kicking them off to the side. He spreads his legs again, starting to breathe quickly at how Harry’s looking down at him, his eyes so intense.

Harry opens the condom carefully with his teeth, rolling it onto his hard cock while he spits the wrapping out of his mouth. Louis can’t help but lick his lips and _stare_ at how beautiful Harry’s body is, the gentle curves of his hips, his strong arms. _Jesus_. Before he knows it, Harry’s opening the small tub of lube and swiping his fingers inside, getting them nice and coated.

As soon as Harry brings his hand back, Louis spreads his legs even wider, a whine from the back of his throat sounding in the otherwise quiet room. Harry’s fingers inch closer and closer to his arse, and Louis’ already arching his back, completely overwhelmed even when nothing’s even happened yet.

Louis yelps as he feels the tip of Harry’s index finger nudge against his arse, his toes curling. “This okay?” Harry asks urgently, stopping his movements entirely.

“Yes, _God_ yes,” Louis moans, “C’mon, I need your fingers, need _something_ , Harry,”

Harry’s fingers come back as quick as they left, this time entering slowly. It’s not much of a squeeze, since Louis _is_ human and _does_ have access to many different kinds of sex toys, and it makes it all the more pleasurable, the stinging and pain stage already having been fucked out of him. Louis’ toes curl even more, his back arching at Harry’s finger sliding inside of him easily and deeper. “ _Fuck_ ,” He gets out, gritting his teeth. “Yes.”

“This doesn’t hurt?” Harry asks, a second finger sliding in beside the first. “Tell me if it does, alright?”

“No, it’s good, it’s good,” Louis reassures, grinding his hips down to get more of Harry’s fingers. “I’m ready whenever you are, Harry Styles.”

Harry’s cock twitches at that, and he slowly slides his two fingers out. Louis watches with heavy eyes as Harry dips his hand back into the tub of lube, absentmindedly taking his own cock in his hands while he watches Harry slick his cock up. His cock is heavy in his palm, thick and leaking at the tip.

Louis’ heart rate quickens at Harry moving closer towards him, lining his hard, long cock up against his prepped arse. “Harry, are you going to fuck me slower than you speak? _Jesus_.”

“Sorry for trying to be cautious and not _hurt you_.” Harry complains. He leans down again, necklace dangling against Louis’ bare chest. “You said you wanted me to kiss you during sex.”

“Yeah, and?”

Harry slides his cock in gently, slowly, watching Louis’ face for any signs of pain. Louis’ whole body arches upwards, a long, choked off moan escaping his open mouth. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispers, pressing his mouth on Louis’. Louis feels a bit like he’s in heaven or something, because Harry’s big cock is filling him up like no one else has ever done, and his lips are plump and _wet_ against his, and there’s so many different things that Harry’s making feel good that it’s almost too much, too overwhelming.

Louis kisses back the best he can with the intensity and force of Harry’s thrusts. He’s being knocked backwards with each one, head almost hitting the headboard. Louis reaches up and pulls on Harry’s necklace, his feet digging into Harry’s sheets. He’s fully aware of all the noises Harry’s pulling out of him, how ridiculous they sound, but he couldn’t give less of a fuck how whiney and loud he’s being, because Harry’s cock is making him feel so _wonderful_ and _full_ , Harry deserves to know how fucking _good_ he’s making him feel.

“Oh my God,” Louis gets out shakily, words being swallowed by Harry’s mouth. “Oh my _God_ , Harry, keep fucking me _just like that_ ,” Harry hums an incoherent response, relentlessly fucking Louis into his mattress. “Your fucking _music_ ,” Louis splays his hands against Harry’s back, scratching into his back with his short nails. “Is so bloody _annoying_ , I can’t believe that you’re always on the god damn radio,”

Harry fucks into him harder, “Scratch my back again, I like that,”

With an annoyed groan, Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s waist and locks his ankles together so they’ll stay, scratching the length of Harry’s back again as hard as he can. “You annoy me so much but I don’t want you to — _fuck_ , oh my — _yes_ — ever stop fucking me.” He takes it an extra step further and trails his hands up so he can take hold of Harry’s long hair, pulling and tugging harshly before scratching at his back again.

“Won’t,” Harry moans, like a promise. His hips begin to speed up, which Louis didn’t even think was possible. He can’t even make any more noises, is too overwhelmed with Harry’s mouth on his and how _hard_ he’s being fucked, the sound of skin on skin incredibly loud and impossibly _hot_.

Louis takes one of his hands from Harry’s back and places it back on his leaking cock, stroking himself in time with each of Harry’s intense thrusts. It makes his thighs shake, the feeling of it all, and he starts to feel the familiar feeling of the beginning of an orgasm. “ _Close_ ,” he manages to say, his wrist speeding up.

Harry doesn’t stop fucking into him, keeping the same quick, hard, deep pace that he’s had for what feels like forever. “You’re going to come for me?”

“Yeah,” Louis pants, arm aching. He doesn’t stop jerking himself off, tries his best to keep in time with Harry. “Gonna come for you, just for you, _Harry Styles_.”

That seems to affect Harry, because his hips stutter for the first time and his rhythm starts to become erratic. “Gonna come for you, too, Lou, your _arse_ so tight for me,”

That’s when Louis loses it. He comes with a loud cry, his fist stilling on his cock. He feels his warm come start to drip and pool all over his hand, the feeling of Harry’s cock still deep inside of him making it all the more enjoyable, small spurts still dripping out from the overstimulation. It takes a second or two for Louis to remember his own _name_ , his chest heaving.

Harry seems to get off by _Louis_ getting off, because Louis can feel the condom start to fill up, shivering at the warmth inside of him. Harry’s thrusts are wild and slow and sharp, his hips finally beginning to settle down after minutes of relentlessly fucking into him.

“Oh my God,” Harry says, rolling off to the side of Louis, taking his condom off. He ties it up and throws it in the trash can beside the bed. “That was — that was _amazing_.”

“Sorry I insulted your music.” Louis says softly, thighs still shaking. “Actually, no, your music is still very hipster and kind of awful but your cock definitely makes up for it, so.”

“Apology accepted?” Harry pants.

“Also,” Louis pulls out a Kleenex from Harry’s bedside table and begins to wipe himself down. “Don’t write a song about this.” He wishes he could be serious in this moment, look intimidating and all that, but he can’t help from smiling fondly.

Harry’s smiling, too, green eyes lit up. “No promises.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiii, your comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!!! 
> 
> Twitter - @delicatelouis


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